


the one who runs from the living (and the dead)

by bilexualclarke



Series: tumblr prompts [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mad Max AU, Mad Max: Fury Road AU, it was supposed to be zombie apocalypse but this happened instead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:11:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7949314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bilexualclarke/pseuds/bilexualclarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t move.”</p><p>The woman spins around and has her gun trained on him before he can blink. Bellamy freezes, his hands in the air.</p><p>“Please,” he rasps, “I just need water.”</p><p>The woman glares at him, and there’s something in her eyes that’s eerily familiar. Her head is shaven, the area around her eyes smudged with black war paint. But as his eyes roam down her body, taking in her stance, her curves, the way she’s holding the gun in her left hand-</p><p>“Clarke?”</p><p>prompt: Bellamy + Clarke zombie apocalypse AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one who runs from the living (and the dead)

When Bellamy Blake comes to, the first thing he registers is the burning of his back. As he slowly takes in his surroundings, he remembers the needle, the awful sting as the War Boys carved information into his back. They had finally captured him last night, after weeks on the run. They cut his hair and extracted some bone marrow before shoving him into the cage he’s in now, hanging from the wall with a drip flowing his blood into the vein’s of one of the sick War Boys.

 

He’s still waiting for the day when his survival instincts finally shut up and tell him it’s not worth it. Now that he’s lost Octavia, there’s not much to live for anymore.

 

“Treason! Betrayal!” A War Boy comes sprinting into the dungeons, heading for the pile of wheels in the corner. They all look the same: pale, bald, and sickly, with tumors and growths sprouting from random appendages. “There’s an Imperator gone rogue!”

 

“An Imperator? Which one?” The War Boy draining Bellamy’s blood perks up and turns to look at the other. When he turns, Bellamy can just make out his name, hastily tattooed at the bottom of his neck, right below the symbol of the Immortan.

 

_Murphy._

 

“Griffin,” the other War Boy says, grabbing a wheel. Murphy’s eyes narrow and he draws himself up to his full height.

 

“That’s my wheel. You’re just my lancer, Dax.”

 

Dax smirks. “You can’t go anywhere without your bloodbag. This is my ride.”

 

Murphy lunges forward, grabbing the wheel and slamming his forehead into Dax’s. The latter stumbles backward, losing his grip on the wheel, and Murphy rips it free of his hands.

 

“We take my bloodbag with us.” He looms forward over Dax, grinning widely and showing off his chipped yellow teeth. “And if I die, I die historic on the Fury Road.”

 

The Fury Road. The long stretch of desert highway that spans for miles, leading you out of the Immortan’s Citadel, past Gas Town and the Bullet Farm, far into the unknown. The road is treacherous and full of raiders and murderers alike, and it’s the road Bellamy had been traveling before his capture.

 

Road wars dominated the highway. After the chemical and nuclear wars that killed the world, all that was left seemed to be the Fury Road. Bellamy was barely old enough to remember it before it was lost to the carnage- sometimes in his sleep he sees flashes of black pavement, lined with greenery and the occasional brightly lit storefront. But now all he knows is the bright hot sun and the burning orange sand, splattered with blood and limbs and wreckage.

 

Hours later he finds himself strapped to the lancer’s perch of Murphy’s car, the wind whipping in his ears and the sand burning his face as they sped down the road after the Imperator’s War Machine. The Immortan sent an entire War Party after them, which tells Bellamy that this one must have done something very, very wrong.

 

“You said it was Griffin driving the Rig?” Bellamy hears Murphy yell to Dax behind him.

 

“That’s right.”

 

“What’s she done?”

 

 _She._ Bellamy’s mind flashes instantly Clarke, Griffin his best friend. They grew up together, survived together, but got separated during a raid when they were eighteen. It’s been five years since he’s seen her, which means she’s a good as dead. Just like everyone else he’s ever known. Just like Octavia.

 

“Stole something from the Immortan. His prized Breeders, I think.”

 

Bellamy’s stomach turns. Cage the Immortan was the most grotesque excuse for a human he had ever seen, both in appearance and character. Oozing sores covered his body, and an elaborate respirator was attached to his jaw, making it look like he was permanently snarling. He resides in the mountainous outcropping that overlooks the Fury Road, and within its walls he hoards the most valuable resources: water, crops, and gasoline.

 

His raiding parties have been known to return with women in addition to their war supplies- Cage collects them to, using them as Breeders for his dozens of sickly children and his own personal milk supply. It’s one of the most atrocious things Bellamy has ever heard, and it almost makes him slightly grateful for the bloody road war that took Octavia’s life a year ago. He’d rather her be gone than trapped behind the Citadel’s walls. 

 

“She’s trying to lose us in the storm!” Murphy cackles, shifting into overdrive as they prepare to chase Imperator Griffin’s rig into the impending stand storm that Bellamy is shocked to see appear out of nowhere on the horizon.

 

“You’re fucking crazy!” he spits back at Murphy. “If you drive into that thing, you’ll kill us all!”

 

The roar of an engine drowns out his words as the Immortan’s chariot races past them, the outlandish figure himself behind the wheel. Murphy calls out to him as he passes, gasping when the tyrant glances his way.

 

“He looked at me!” Murphy cries out. Bellamy can practically hear Dax roll his eyes.

 

“He was scanning the horizon.”

 

“No, he looked at me!” Murphy lets out a whoop and accelerates even more, bringing them closer to the storm. “I am awaited! I am awaited in Valhalla!”

 

The storm hits them as soon as he finishes, and Bellamy screams as the grains hit his skin, slicing into it like thousands of tiny razor blades. He hears Murphy and Dax screaming orders at each other, then one of them cries out in pain, and the next thing he knows the car is flipping and he’s flying through the air.

 

Then nothing.

 

He comes to buried in the sand, and the first thing he registers is that _fuck_ he’s thirsty. As he pulls himself free of the sand, he notices he’s still shackled to the car and, because of his blood bag status, still attached to Murphy.

 

“Fucking hell,” he grumbles, stumbling over to where the man lays unconscious a few feet away. Bellamy digs a knife out of Murphy’s s belt and cuts the blood line then uses it to crack the rusted lock on his shackles. “Find yourself another blood bag,” he spits.

 

The hiss of running water catches his attention and he whirls around. About a quarter mile ahead is the Imperator’s rig, and he can see a woman- his guess is Imperator Griffin- standing outside and hosing it down.

 

Bellamy looks behind him, and when he squints he can just make out the rest of the war party approaching. He has no idea how they got separated, but he’s not about to question his luck. His best bet is to talk to the Imperator and see what her plan is, if she doesn’t kill him first.

 

Regardless, she has water, and his throat is drier than the Fury Road itself.

 

He walks over there quickly, but slows his pace as he gets closer, not wanting to startle her. It doesn’t work.

 

“Don’t move.”

 

The woman spins around and has her gun trained on him before he can blink. Bellamy freezes, his hands in the air.

 

“Please,” he rasps, “I just need water.”

 

The woman glares at him, and there’s something in her eyes that’s eerily familiar. Her head is shaven, the area around her eyes smudged with black war paint. But as his eyes roam down her body, taking in her stance, her curves, the way she’s holding the gun in her left hand-

 

“ _Clarke?_ ”

 

Her eyes widen, and her grip on the gun falters. Bellamy raises his hands to his face, doing his best to wipe off as much sand as he can from his hair and skin.

 

“Oh my God.” Clarke lowers the gun and strides towards him. “ _Bellamy_.”

 

He meets her halfway, his arms winding tightly around her waist and lifting her off her feet. Her arms clamp like a vice around his neck, and he can feel her lips press gently into the exposed skin of his shoulder.

 

“I thought you were dead,” he whispers, clutching her tighter.

 

“Sometimes I wished I was.” He puts her down and steps back to look into her eyes. “But I’m glad I made it.”

 

“What are you doing with the Immortan?” Bellamy glances back at the War Rig. “Where are you going, Clarke?”

 

Her eyes widen and she jumps back toward the machine. “Holy shit!” She slams her fist three times on the hard metal side, and after a beat the hatch opens.

 

“Clarke? What is it?”

 

A woman pokes her head out, a pretty face framed by mousy brown hair braided away from her face. Another woman appears behind her, all tan skin and silky black hair and a surly frown.

 

“O, come out here.”

 

 _O_.  _O?_

 

Before Bellamy can even start to get his hopes up, a third woman pokes her head out, and when she sees him she jumps from the Rig entirely. Her dark hair is wound in dozen braids down her back and she has black war paint smudged beneath her eyes in a different style from Clarke.

 

“Bell,” Octavia chokes out, sprinting towards him. Bellamy grabs his sister with a strangled sob and they fall to their knees, clutching each other.

 

“You’re alive,” Octavia sobs. “You found me.”

 

“I can’t believe it, O,” Bellamy whispers. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

 

“Not to cut this reunion short,” snaps the woman with the dark hair, “but we need to get moving. They’re catching up.”

 

Bellamy tears away from Octavia to look back to Clarke, who grimaces apologetically.

 

“Unfortunately, Raven’s right. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

 

“Where are you headed?” Bellamy straightens, pulling Octavia with him. Two more women have appeared in the cabin of the Rig. “Who are these people?”

 

“That’s Raven and Harper, and the two behind them are Gina and Monroe.”

 

“We were captured by the Immortan,” the one Clarked called Harper said with a frown. “He took us as his Wives. Clarke is helping us escape.”

 

“Escape?” Though the thought of his sister, of these women, of Clarke being property of the vile Immortan Cage makes his stomach turn and his blood boil, Bellamy fights to stay in the present. “Escape to where?”

 

Octavia turns and heads back toward the Rig as Clarke speaks.

 

“I have a friend. Lincoln. I’ve spoken to him on some trade missions and he’s told me of the village he came from. He calls it the Green Place.”

 

“Clarke,” Bellamy says softly, “I haven’t seen any green in nearly a decade.”

 

“I trust him,” Clarke insists, her eyes wild. “It will be a long journey. Months, maybe years if we’re unlucky. But I have friends that I’m confident will help us along the way. If you’re in, we need to leave right away while we still have a head start.”

 

Bellamy takes in Clarke’s determined expression and his sister standing tall behind her. He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

 

“I’m in,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

 

**_One Year Later_**

 

“We’re here,” Clarke says softly as she turns off the engine. She reaches over to gently shake Bellamy’s shoulder. “Bell, we’re here.”

 

He wakes suddenly, as usual, but his body relaxes the moment his eyes focus on her. With a soft smile, he reaches over and runs his hands through the soft blonde waves that now fall just below her ears.

 

“We’re here,” he murmurs in response, leaning over the console to smack a kiss to her lips, which are turned up in a smile. “You did it.”

 

“Come on, Lincoln’s waiting.” Clarke opens the door and hops out. Bellamy takes a second to absorb his surroundings. The rest of the cab is empty, and when he stares out the window he sees the girls running through the grass, a green that he hasn’t seen since before the wars, towards a small settlement of buildings.

 

Bellamy climbs out of the cab and goes to stand next to Clarke, taking her hand.

 

“Is this real?” he asks breathlessly. Clarke rests her head against his shoulder.

 

“Yes,” she whispers. “Hey.”

 

He looks down, meeting her eyes. The journey was long and hard, and they sustained heavy losses along the way. He’s thankful that they all made it there alive.

 

“I love you.”

 

It’s not the first time she’s told him, and it won’t be the last time he says them back, but his heart still swells at the words.

 

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> come cry about season 4 with me on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


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